The Space Between
by Commandante Theresa
Summary: One shot set after Season 4 midseason finale. Killian is tired of being dead last on Emma's priority list and decides to leave Storybrooke forever. Can Emma persuade him to stay and give her, and their relationship, another chance? In addition to no sex & her apparent preference for girls, it doesn't help that Killian has been spending WAY too much time with his tv friends.


**The Space Between**

Emma stood on the dock watching while Killian methodically moved from dock to boat and back again. He seemed to be stocking a rather large sailboat with provisions and equipment for what by all appearances looked to be a long journey.

Emma had stopped round at Granny's only to learn that Killian had suddenly packed his things, paid the balance of rent due for the room, and checked out. She had no idea where he'd gone, but instinct alone carried her to the dock. Sure enough, there he was.

Striding forward, a slightly chilly breeze blew a strand of hair in her eyes as she clicked forward smartly in her leather boots. She impatiently pushed the errant strand back feeling angrier and angrier and she marched down the dock. _What the hell was he playing at? _

Reaching the mooring, she put both hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Where'd you steal that?" she demanded.

He looked up then and rather than smiling as he usually did when he first saw her, his face tensed, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

"Well, good morning to you, too," he said. "And don't jump to conclusions. I've actually purchased this vessel. The papers are in the cabin if need proof, _Sheriff Swan."_ Without another word, he turned his back to her and resumed his labors.

Taken aback, Emma didn't speak or move for a few minutes. The sound of music playing while a skipper a few berths down worked to polish his teak floated out into the cool morning air. It was _The Space Between_ by Dave Matthews, she realized.

_You cannot quit me so quickly_

_Is no hope in you for me_

_No corner you could squeeze me_

_But I got all the time for you, love_

_The space between the tears we cry_

_Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more_

_The space between the wicked lies we tell_

_And hope to keep safe from the pain_

_But will I hold you again_?

Emma took a few steps forward, trying to keep her face relaxed and her voice light. "What's with all the supplies? Are you planning to take a vacation? Where are you planning on going?" She'd meant to sound playful and teasing, but it had come out sounding shrill and accusatory. Damnit, she didn't like it when he did something unpredictable!

He paused again, turned, and regarded her silently for a few moments. "If you must know, I'm leaving Storybrooke. So, Emma, could you please climb down out of my ass now? Could you do that, _please_?"

Emma almost stamped her foot in a rage at that. How dare he speak to her like that? "Goddamnit, Killian, stop channeling Walter White right fucking now and tell me what this is all about?"

He athletically leapt from the boat deck to the dock and stood before her, his arms folded over his chest, his blue eyes blazing. "I've had it, Emma. I've tried as hard as I could to be in your life…to be with you. But there's just not _any _room for me, and you've refused to even try to make even the tiniest space, the smallest bit of room, for me…for us. I'm done trying. It's impossible. I'll never be important enough to you for that." His face looked sad.

Emma felt a little frantic as she felt her heartbeat speed up. "Of course you're important to me! There's another crisis, but as soon as I get it figured out and under control, we'll spend some time together, I promise." How could he be so dense?

He smiled a bitter little smile and guffawed. "Oh really? There's _always_ a crisis! And whoever and whatever it involves, I am quite confident I will remain in my present position of dead last on your list of priorities," he scoffed.

"That's not true!" she said hotly, her voice angrier now. "You are a priority in my life! Well, after Henry, I mean, but I thought you understood that. How dare you resent him?" She gathered her righteousness to her like a protective cloak.

"You think this is about Henry? I have no problems coming in second to your lad if that's what you're suggesting," his mouth twisted as he spat the words out. "I don't even mind coming after your parents or your brother, for that matter. But I do very much mind coming after Regina, along with the Snow Queen, Elsa, Anna, and whichever other fucking magical beings turn up in this fucking town on a regular basis."

Emma almost stamped her foot in frustration. She clenched and unclenched her fists, taking a few deep breaths to control her combination of anger and the beginning of the cold clammy grip of fear on her heart. "I do not put Regina or anyone else like that ahead of you!" she shouted, poking his chest for emphasis.

"Oh please," he said, passing a weary, agitated hand through his disheveled locks and then rubbing his face as if trying to coax some patience into it. "After you rather unceremoniously shoved my heart back into my chest and planted a big old wet kiss on me to shut me up for a few minutes, you couldn't get away fast enough to run downstairs and have a drink with your BFF Regina."

Her jaw dropped, and when he saw the hurt look on her face, he felt a small, mean frisson of satisfaction. He had hit home.

"I couldn't stay! I needed to check on Regina! She'd just lost Robin – again - - and it's all my fault! You have to understand." She pressed her hands imploringly against his chest, her voice plaintive. Usually that melted him, but this time he pulled away.

"Honestly, sometimes I'm not entirely sure you even _like_ men," he said contemplatively turning back to his tasks. "Do you even realize your girlfriend was enjoying hot, passionate sex with Robin in her vault while I haven't been laid in, like, two years while you played your mind games with me. My balls are bluer than the Blue Fairy's fucking wings!"

Stung, she pulled at his arm to get his attention, trying to think of how he had had to do the same thing to her countless time, only to have her pull away from him, as he did to her now. "You know that's not true. I was busy trying to figure out how to defeat the Snow Queen and how to help Elsa and Anna get back to Arendelle and then I find out Gold's been working behind our back all along, you know, _work stuff._"

Now he turned to her looking truly enraged. "Oh let's talk about the recent past, shall we? How many times did you look at me funny or ask me if there was something wrong, only to abandon any further inquiry into that very question because you could care less. You knew there was something wrong with me when Gold had my heart, but you never, ever made the slightest effort to find out what. Did you ever think if you'd cared enough about me to dig deeper into what was, indeed, making me behave strangely you would have unraveled the mystery and solved the crisis a lot sooner?"

He was getting worked up now. "I've always, always been there for you, every damn time. No matter how much you pushed me away. No matter how downright _rude_ you've been to me. The one time _I_ needed _you_, you were totally AWOL. Christ, after you shoved my heart back in it didn't even occur to your incurious mind to ask how the hell he'd gotten a hold of my heart in the first place or why. You never even wondered why someone as powerful as the Dark One couldn't keep my hand attached either. It was too much trouble not to accept my rather thin reason for my second amputation than for you to bother. Sometimes I wish I'd never decided to turn my ship around that day. I'd be a lot happier." He was breathless by the time he finished. He obviously had bottled up his rage for some time.

Emma was pale and almost shaking. She couldn't refute the truth of what he was saying. It was all true. Every damning word. She'd taken him for granted from the start, used him carelessly with no thought for the tender heart she knew was hidden behind his swagger and bravado. Said things to him she knew were lies, just to hurt him. She winced when she remembered telling him she'd been_ "in love"_ and "heartbroken" over the simian Walsh. It had been a lie, and even if it had been true, she shouldn't have said it.

Her heart was too full of guilt and remorse to argue with him anymore. "Where will you go?" she demanded tersely.

"I'm not sure," he shrugged, picking him a large box of tools. "Maybe New York, wasn't that the place you were always so eager to run to? A veritable paradise, I'm sure. I need to find something to do with my life if I'm to continue to inhabit this world other than tagging along after you like some pathetic stray dog looking for whatever scraps you throw me. Even Gold was laughing at me, as I'm sure everyone else has been. It's not as if anyone has ever actually liked me around these parts," he observed cynically.

"New York?" she said skeptically, "You'll be eaten alive there. Don't tell me you haven't given up your ridiculous fantasy about going into advertising?" There, she thought, score one for me finally.

"Very funny," he said, visibly fuming. Whilst killing time while Emma was otherwise engaged with her girlfriends and the rest of Storybrooke, he'd been binge watching the addicting television dramas so beloved of Emmy Award voters and the chattering classes.

She remembered when she'd seen him out on Granny's patio standing alone with a glass of something much browner than rum in a glass – Scotch as she later learned. He'd been staring soulfully out into space, glass in one hand – and a lit cigarette in the other."

"Since when did you start smoking," she demanded, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

"What do you think about me going into advertising?" he'd shockingly asked her.

She'd stood staring dumbly at him for a few minutes until it clicked who he reminded her of.

"Oh God! You've been watching _Mad Men_, haven't you? You think you could be Don Draper, is that what this is about?" She started laughing.

He looked wounded. "I don't see why not. I'm very handsome, women other than you seem to find me irresistible, and I can drink with the best of them. Don Draper and I were practically twins separated at birth."

She tried to be patient. No matter how many times she explained to him the principles of television and digital imagery, he couldn't seem to shake the notion that the television was like Gold's magic mirror, and he was glimpsing the actual lives of other people.

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Killian, Don Draper does not exist. He's an actor named Jon Hamm, and not only do you have no qualifications to be in advertising, but that show was set in a time nearly fifty years ago. That world is gone!"

"You're kidding!" he had looked crestfallen.

Even funnier had been the day she came into Granny's and found him staring out the window with a cup of coffee. When she'd told him to hurry up because they needed to get to the Sheriff's station, he'd turned to her with a faraway look in his eye.

"Time is a flat circle, Emma," he'd said, his customary clipped British accent submerged in a Texas twang.

"Oh God, not again," she'd huffed. "Now we're pretending to be Rust Cohle, are we? Let's go through this again, Killian. Rust and Marty _do not exist._ They are not detectives in Southern Louisiana; they are actors speaking words written for them by others. Rust is really an actor named Matthew McConaughey, and _True Detective_ is fictional.

He ignored her. "Do you think I need manscaping?" he asked her finally. Apparently, he'd been shaken to the core by McConaughey's jacked body and hairless chest. "Is this the ideal of masculine perfection in your world."

"Not really," she'd said. "But he does have a pretty great body." She was still trying to get past the fact that he had somehow learned what "manscaping" meant.

Her mind switched back to the present as he gave her a withering look. "Maybe I'll go search for wherever Gold's gone and see if we can partner up. Maybe go into business together, legal or illegal." He thawed enough to give her a wink.

"You're out of your mind. He just stole your heart, and he's your mortal enemy. Have you forgotten Milah?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I found we actually made a fairly effective team until he made the unfortunate decision to rip my heart out. We were kind of like Tony and Christopher in _The Sopranos_. And it's high time we both stop feuding over that child abandoning slag Milah. It's just not worth the agony. You know, bros before hos, and all that." He picked up a large cooler, manhandled it to the deck and stowed it away.

When he returned, she had her arms angrily folded across her chest, tapping her foot with narrowed eyes.

"This isn't that insane idea you had to go retrieve the _Jolly_ and turn it into a floating meth lab, is it?" she demanded, her voice dripping with contempt.

"It's not insane! It worked for Walt and Jesse – well, for awhile at least. We could be makin' some fast-stackin' Benjies, yo."

His _Breaking Bad_ phase had been perhaps the worst. He had begun talking like Jesse Pinkman and it went on for an entire week. Every sentence had been punctuated with "yo" and "Bitch" and he had referred offhandedly to "mad stacks", "boosting" his spyglass from Gold's shop, and made statements like "he's got skills, yo." He'd also asked her worriedly if his eyes were as blue as Aaron Paul's.

"Umm, well, his eyes are really, really blue, but they're more of an_ ice blue_ and I'd say you're more a sapphire blue, how's that?" Emma reassured him. "I really like sapphire. Ice blue is a little too…serial killer, you know?"

She smiled a little, touched a bit by his often child-like naivete in her world and the insecurity that lay beneath his vanity. She realized he was speaking again.

"In answer to your question, no, I'm not planning on going into the meth business. Maybe I'll open a bar or something. Something like the Bada Bing that Silvio Dante used to own on_ Sopranos_. You know he moved to Lillehammer, Norway, and he's running a club there called The Flamingo?" He was now absorbed in tying down an extra sail on deck.

"Killian, you're thinking of a show on Netflix called _Lilyhammer_, and it's the same actor who played Silvio basically portraying the same character but he's in Norway now in witness protection," she reminded him.

"Yeah, well, maybe I need to consider being an actor. They seem to have all the fun in this world." He finished the last of his securing and other preparations and climbed onto the bow to begin untying the first rope to cast off.

She watched helplessly, panic rising. Was she really losing him? Why hadn't she appreciated him more? How could she have let it come to this?"

"Killian, stop," she said, her voice firmer. "I'm not ready to give up on this relationship – not by a long shot. I refuse to break up with you."

He snorted at her, amused. "Well, not really your decision, is it love? Because _I'm _ breaking up with _you._ And your presumptuous tone is something that has really bothered me, by the way. You are just so fucking unnecessarily rude all the time. What's up with that?"

"What is this, _10 Things I Hate About You_?" she snarled back.

"Well, since you're asking, I've only told you two things I hate about you. There are at least eight more. But really, the rude thing is the worst. Is basic politeness too much to ask? I mean the whole time you were running away from me, you always had to say the meanest, rudest things like "I was heartbroken by that monkey" and "why don't you curse someone I'd actually kiss" like you were in middle school or something. What's wrong with just saying "It's not you, it's me," or "I'm just not that into you." Isn't that the done thing in your world?" he asked earnestly. He honestly wondered.

"Oh I see you've switched your television viewing from drama to comedy – you into _Seinfeld_ and _Sex in the City_ these days?" she mocked him.

"Why not?" he said carelessly. "I've nothing else to do. And _Sex and the City_ is about the _only _sex of any variety I've come close to lately. Oh and I can't believe what that guy Mr. Big puts up with from that woman. He's so fucking cool, he could get any girl he wanted. Oh wait, I know – I put up with shit from you all the fucking time."

She tried not to show how hurt she was by his cruelty. But she couldn't deny she deserved it. He was funny, smart, always entertaining, heart stoppingly handsome, and sexy as hell. What the fuck was her problem? He'd been head over heels in love with her, and she hadn't even let him into her bed even after she'd confessed she cared for him. She'd barely had a minute to spare for him, too caught up with her concern for other people – any other people but him, she realized. She didn't deserve him. And as per usual, she'd turned that into a self-fulfilling prophecy. She was losing him now. She felt her heart shattering into little pieces.

Without another word, Killian untied the last rope and pushed off from the dock, gracefully leaping onto the deck as he did so.

She wouldn't, couldn't let him go. She ran after the boat, running along the dock until she could run no further without falling in the water. She stretched her arms out in supplication as if she could snatch him back. She briefly considered using her magic to do just that but dismissed it just as quickly. He had to choose to be with her of his own free will.

"Killian, please! You were right, I was wrong! I fucked it all up," she began sobbing now, "Please, please, please come back! Give me another chance! I'll show you what it can be…what _we_ can be… ."

She trailed off as he shook his head sadly, a pitying half smile on his face. "A few weeks ago I would have given anything to hear you say that. But it's too late now, Em. I'm done."

The boat continued to drift away, but he continued to look at her, as if trying to memorize her features in the coming years, when they were apart.

"Killian no! If you go, I don't know what I'll do, what I'll become without you! What will I do? Where will I go?" she was frantic now as the empty future yawned before her without him like a dark abyss.

He shook his head a little and raised his hand in a final little salute good-bye.

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

**I KNOW SOME OF YOU WILL HATE ME FOR THIS. OBVIOUSLY, I HAVE SOME ISSUES WITH HOW EMMA HAS TREATED KILLIAN IN THE SHOW AND HOW CS WAS WRITTEN THIS SEASON SO FAR. I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM. FEEL FREE TO DENOUNCE ME BY LEAVING A REVIEW OR PM'ing ME. OR YOU CAN SEND ME SOME DITTOES IF YOU'RE AS FRUSTRATED AND ANNOYED AS KILLIAN AND I ARE. THANKS FOR READING!**


End file.
